


The next best thing

by Wheresmycow2



Series: When you smile [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresmycow2/pseuds/Wheresmycow2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin always thought that friendship and love were two completely different things. Friendship was about having fun with blokes, and love was about living happily ever after. With the little experience  Martin has in both areas, he just can’t quite put a label on their relationship. He definitely isn’t gay, but this whole weird thing with Douglas somehow seems like both having fun with a bloke and happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a sequel to [When you smile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488149) but can also be read as a stand-alone. It’s not properly betaed, so please inform me of any mistakes/typos/whatever

It’s not really flirting.

  


Douglas lets out a dramatic sigh as they enter another cheap hotel room in Istanbul with two rusty iron beds and faded wallpaper and says: “Oh but darling, you promised me the wedding suite for our anniversary!” 

Martin chuckles : “Yes, dear, but that was before you married me for my money and I married you for your lovely behind. And now the money’s all gone and your arse is twice as big.”  
Douglas snorts, Martin grins, and they put their flight bags on the beds and head out again for dinner in a little restaurant Douglas pointed out earlier.

It may look or sound like flirting sometimes, but Martin knows it isn’t really; with his social skills, the true art of flirting is in the same category as genetic engineering or playing the violin. Martin vaguely understands how it’s done, but he wouldn’t know where to start. The ‘not-flirting’ with Douglas, on the other hand, comes very easy nowadays.  
He does enjoy it, maybe even more than the word games, and nearly as much as he values the regular serious talks with Douglas. He’s beginning to think they have a real, solid friendship, especially after he hears Douglas repeatedly refer to him as his ‘friend’, and sometimes his ‘good friend’, and on one occasion ‘my dashing young friend here’, although that might not have been entirely serious.  
Martin hesitantly starts to do the same, and calls Douglas ‘my very old friend’, immediately following this up with an apology, but Douglas really doesn’t seem to mind. So next he refers to Douglas as ‘my big old friend’, ‘my handsome friend’, and one time, after far too many drinks, he insists on introducing Douglas as ‘my best friend, the Sky God’ to a couple of complete strangers outside a restaurant in Frankfurt. It’s a good thing he has a sober friend like Douglas to wink at the strangers, make a witty remark and make sure that Martin gets to his hotel room safely.  
Secretly, Martin is a bit glad that Douglas has divorced Helena. Otherwise, their friendship would probably never have developed like this. Douglas dislikes being alone, and soon after Helena has left he starts asking Martin over for dinner and a DVD. It’s nice, and it becomes a regular thing.  
* * *  
The first time he sees Douglas wearing an apron (an apron with little pink flowers) while preparing a truly fantastic chili con carne, Martin ends up sitting on the kitchen floor howling with laughter. It takes him five minutes to finally stand up and say:  
“Honey, if I knew you’d be wearing sexy underwear I would have brought you flowers.”  
“Oh, you owe me an entire flower shop for my sexiness.” Douglas smiles that pleased sort of smile which always makes Martin smile back with a warm happy feeling inside.  
“Darling, I’d buy you a flower shop if I had the money.”  
“Funnily enough, I believe you would,” Douglas says, and stares at him for a second longer than comfortable. For a minute it’s a bit awkward somehow, but then Douglas accidentally drops a very ripe tomato on his foot. By the time they’ve stopped laughing and everything’s cleaned up, all is back to normal.  
They watch Intouchables that night, the third French film in a row, because at some point they decided that it’s more fun to add some sort of theme to their DVD watching. The French theme is of course chosen by Douglas, right after Martin’s suggestion of ‘anything with a plane in it’, which had led to a series of the most unrelated movies ever (but fun nonetheless). Martin had been a bit worried that Douglas’s line-up would be all artistic and intellectual. He shouldn’t have worried, because he actually loved both the classics Cousin, Cousine and Trois Hommes et un Couffin. Martin never saw the American remakes of those movies, but he trusts Douglas completely when he states that these French originals are the far better versions.  
“That was incredibly beautiful,” Martin says when the Intouchables’ credits roll, “and also bloody hilarious.”  
“I completely agree. In Arthur’s words, brilliant. Not in Arthur’s words, amazingly clever and touching.”  
For a moment, they are both silent, and then, as if on cue:  
“The end though-“  
“But I didn’t really like the end.”  
Grinning, they turn to face each other.  
If my life were a French movie, we would kiss right now, Martin thinks just before Douglas reaches for his apple juice and hands Martin his glass of red wine.  
It’s a ridiculous thought, and he dismisses it, blushing slightly. He certainly doesn’t want to kiss Douglas, it’s just that he enjoys this companionship so much, it’s a bit confusing sometimes. Martin always thought that friendship and love were two completely different things. Friendship was about having fun with blokes, and love was about living happily ever after. With the little experience Martin has in both areas, he just can’t quite put a label on their relationship. He definitely isn’t gay, but this whole weird thing with Douglas somehow seems like both having fun with a bloke and happily ever after.  
* * *  
Three weeks later (it’s SF-movie week, Martin’s choice because of the space ships) Martin ruins a T-shirt when stirring a delicious honey-mustard sauce a bit too enthusiastically.  
“My shirt!” he cries.  
“My sauce!” Douglas mocks, then reaches out to wipe a drop from Martin’s bare arm and licks it off his finger. Without even thinking, Martin replies with “Oh, If I’d knew you were going to lick me clean I would have aimed lower!”  
Someone else might have called that quite heavy flirting. But the both of them just burst out laughing, and Martin spends the rest of the evening wearing one of Douglas’s far too large shirts as they watch Serenity.  
“Yes, I liked that,” Douglas says after the film ends. He reaches out and ruffles Martin’s hair. “How about a cup of tea?”  
Martin smiles. “I’ll go make it, and you know, the series is even better, Firefly I mean. Maybe we could go watch series at some point instead of movies? Have you ever watched the X-files?”  
Douglas frowns. “Do you realise that watching just one series would take weeks? How many episodes does the X files have?”  
“Um, two hundred and two. But Firefly got cancelled after only fourteen episodes though.”  
“Okay. We might just be able to watch it before we die of old age, then. Or of thirst. Oh, and I think there’s some lemon pie left!”  
Martin chuckles and makes his way to the kitchen. “Aye, Number One, tea and lemon pie coming up.”  
* * *  
So after SF week, they watch a Firefly episode per night, followed by an episode of Two Point Four Children, an old comedy series Martin has never watched but soon finds as hilarious as Douglas promised it would be. For efficiency reasons, they hardly ever skip a night when they aren’t flying. Also for efficiency reasons, they sometimes add another ep, and then it’s also efficient if Martin spends the night in Douglas’s guest room.  
“How much rent do you pay for that flat?” Douglas asks on a Tuesday night after a flight to Barcelona. They are still watching Two Point Four Children, and have just started the BBC-version of Sherlock.  
Martin is drying his hands on a kitchen towel . “Sixty-four a week, “ he replies, and tries a piece of home-made Gambas al Ajillo, all ingredients bought today at the Sant Antoni Market. “Mm, that’s gorgeous. We make better tapas than Spain itself, Douglas!”  
“Of course we do. And, all right, one hundred and fifty a month.”  
“What?”  
“You can have my spare room for one hundred and fifty pounds a month.”  
Martin opens his mouth to protest, closes it, because he really doesn’t want to protest, and then asks: “What do you get out of it?”  
Douglas sprinkles some chopped parsley over a plate with stuffed tomatoes. “Well, obviously, one hundred and fifty pounds a month. But I also enjoy making a proper cook out of you. And I would like you to do some of the laundry and the hoovering, and on rainy Sunday mornings, we can chat over breakfast and then decide to watch an entire series of your precious Doctor Who in our pyjamas before cooking a perfect dinner. I would like that.”  
“And so would I!” Martin blurts out. “But.. but…you do realize people will think…”  
“I don’t care what people think, Martin. And if you by some miracle happen to meet a nice girl, you tell her the simple truth. We’re colleagues and good friends, sharing a house that we couldn’t afford on our own.”  
“You can’t afford?”  
“Well, obviously I can, but one hundred and fifty pounds would make a nice difference. Also, regarding the hypothetical nice girl, I would of course give you as much privacy as possible.”  
Martin leans against the kitchen counter. “But how about you? I mean, I don’t want to be kicked out the minute you meet the next Mrs. Richardson.”  
Douglas turns to face him. “There is not going to be one. I am lousy at being alone, but I am even worse at being a husband. Three ex -wives are enough. “  
“Oh,” Martin says, and then he can’t help smiling broadly. “In that case, yes. Yes please, thank you.”  
Douglas smiles back at him. ”Also, I like it when you smile,” he says.  
“We smile a lot don’t we?”  
“It’s the second best thing you can do with your mouth.”  
* * *  
Later, having coffee on the couch, Martin is about to push Play on the remote but then clears his throat.  
“Douglas, I just want to say, well, thank you. I never had a friend like you. I mean, you were probably the popular kid at school…”  
“I was the fat kid at school, Martin. I know everything there is to know about being bullied and not having friends.”  
Douglas holds out an arm and Martin gladly accepts the invitation and snuggles up. It’s just another thing they do lately that maybe feels a bit weird but also incredibly good. It’s nothing sexual, just friendly physical contact. Once again, Martin feels he lacks the social experience to be able to properly catalogue it. He has thought about it, and supposes it’s definitely too intimate for something father-son-like, it seems more like something best girlfriends could do, or a very old married couple. In the end, he’s just given up trying to put a label on it, and just trusts Douglas to set the boundaries. Douglas would know. Douglas always knows. And yet the fat-kid issue sounds a bit not the-Douglas-Martin-knows.  
“Then how and when did you…”  
“Become this insanely attractive?”  
It’s obvious Douglas doesn’t want to talk about those events, at least not now. And if Martin has learned anything from Douglas, he knows when to drop a subject and change a subject. He’ll be there for Douglas if he wants to talk about it. And that’s not now.  
So Martin grins and pokes Douglas in the stomach with his finger. “Nah. More when did you fall in love with your pudgy self?”  
Douglas looks at him in surprise, then chuckles.  
“Hammer on the head, Martin. The trick is simply to pretend that you are amazingly attractive even if you aren't. Add my natural charm and I…”  
“Oh, but I absolutely hated you on first sight. So it doesn’t always work.”  
“Ah, but I wasn’t really doing my best with you. Before I met you, I was actually planning on making your life hell. I must admit that when I did meet you, I decided to hold back a bit.”  
If any other person would have said that, Martin would have felt insecure and insulted, but this is Douglas, so he just rests his head on the other man’s shoulder and asks: “Why?”  
“Because although you were all uptight and annoying, you tried so hard. You gave your sorry best to actually be a captain. And you weren’t even half bad at flying, even way back then. You were absolutely terrible at landing, well, you still are of course.“  
“Hey! Cities that begin with an S and end with a brilliant landing with one engine in a cross wind?”  
Douglas grins. “I’ll give you your brilliant landing in St. Petersburg, Martin, and then I will casually remind you of Oslo, two weeks ago?”  
Martin shifts a bit. He would rather die than admit it, but he loves resting his head against Douglas’s broad chest even if Douglas is teasing him over his landings. “There was no damage.”  
“My dentist told me something else. I actually cracked a root.”  
“Never clench your jaws when it can get bumpy, didn’t you learn that in flight school way back in the middle ages?”  
Douglas laughs out loud. “God you are something. Now let’s watch Sherlock before things get nasty.”  
* * *  
Martin moves in, and as Douglas hoped, life becomes a prolonged sleepover with his best friend. He’s perfectly aware of the fact that theirs isn’t just an ordinary friendship, being around each other so much and still getting along so well. . There’s teasing and minor arguing, but never ever an argument. And of course people talk and assume they are a couple. Douglas couldn’t care less. He is happy, Martin seems happy, that’s what counts. And it’s a joy to see Martin being happy, growing more confident.  
In retrospect, Douglas had always known what would happen next. In a way, it was unavoidable. He really doesn’t want it to happen, against better knowledge he desperately wants things to stay just as they are. But as it is, he has little to say in this matter.  
Still, he momentarily fears for a heart attack when it actually happens, on a rainy Tuesday night, on the flight deck of all places, just after they complete post-landing checks after one of Martin’s better landings.  
“Douglas?” Martin blushes and fumbles a bit with his sleeves. “I have something important to tell you.”  
Douglas feels his chest tighten and silently prays to please let this not be a heart attack. He takes a deep breath and smiles a forced, but successfully convincing smile. “Better tell me then.”  
Martin looks him straight in the eyes and smiles nervously.  
“Douglas, I’ve met a girl.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fact is, he doesn’t want to be there when Martin takes his little airplane down from the kitchen’s ceiling, packs his books on aviation, his framed picture of Gerti, and more little things, none of them of real value, just proof that Douglas’s home was also Martin’s home for eight months.

Mary is lovely, clever and witty and obviously madly in love with Martin. Martin returns flustered from dates, and sometimes he doesn’t come back at all until morning.  
Things go fast, three months and there is an engagement, and after six months, a wedding.  
Douglas acts all happy about Martin finding the love of his life, and in fact he is happy for Martin, because Martin deserves this, a lovely wife (who is nine weeks pregnant at the wedding, but he’s promised to keep that a secret) , a family and kids and a terrific life and just plain happiness.  
People do joke about another ‘divorce’ albeit platonic this time, and Douglas smiles and offers them the vacant room. And turns them down with vague excuses immediately if they seem interested. He’s really not ready for a new house mate.  
It’s Carolyn who addresses it, on a rainy Tuesday, two days before the wedding. Martin and Arthur are off, moving the last of Martin’s stuff from Douglas’s house to his new marital residence. Douglas has faked a mild back pain, and has announced to do some paperwork in the portacabin so he wouldn’t be in the way. Fact is, he doesn’t want to be there when Martin takes his little airplane down from the kitchen’s ceiling, packs his books on aviation, his framed picture of Gerti, and more little things, none of them of real value, just proof that Douglas’s home was also Martin’s home for eight months.  
Carolyn just looks at him, sighs. “You hide it pretty well, but I know how you feel. Come here you clot.” She opens her arms.  
He hugs her, she pats his back and he cries a little. He doesn’t even really know why there’s tears, utters silly explanations and excuses. It’s not as if he’s jealous, he has no intentions whatsoever to marry Martin himself. There’s just this feeling of losing something precious, something very special. And it hurts so fucking goddamn much.  
“I know,” Carolyn says. “It’s plain and simple, Martin has crawled under your skin, and now you’re going to miss him terribly.”  
He nods, straightening and wiping his eyes.  
“Yes. I am sorry. Thank you. I’m okay now.” And he does feel better, especially because Carolyn seems to understand  
“The good news is, the both of you idiots will still remain flying my plane. Well, good news for you. There will be word games, bad landings, overlays in cheap hotels, in shared rooms…”  
She hints at something that doesn’t exist, and he protests. “Carolyn! We never-“  
“Good,” Carolyn says. “So don’t make it something it isn’t. As it is, you can still remain friends. You’re his best man, Douglas, and that’s exactly how he sees you. His best friend, the next best thing to falling in love and starting a family. And he is going to miss you too, terribly. “  
“Has he told you?”  
Carolyn rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so utterly dim, Douglas. My other uniform is at the cleaners, so thoroughly covered in tears and snot they are charging me extra. “  
Douglas feels his eyes prickle while he smiles. “So he…”  
“God yes he did, howling and wailing about leaving his best friend and don’t you dare break down in tears again! Dear Lord, whoever discovered humans are made of sixty percent liquid must have known some pilots!”  
He hugs her once more, but smiling now, and he puts a kiss on her forehead. “Carolyn, you’re amazing. If you were single, I think I would start a blazingly hot affair with you right now.”  
His ego gets a rather nice boost by the look in her eyes before she quickly moves back into CEO-mode. “No, none of that, Douglas Richardson! Start flirting with me again and I’ll start firing you!”  
“Understood.” He grins at her, and she actually offers him a small smile and overall, he feels a bit better.  
When he comes home, the house is terrifyingly lacking of Martin and Martin’s things. But as he walks into the kitchen, there’s still a paper plane hanging by the ceiling and a note attached: “Hope you understand I left this for you not because I didn’t want it anymore.”  
• * *  
At the wedding, Martin bites his lip as Douglas congratulates him. Douglas pulls him in a bear hug, and whispers: “Bet you the next cheese tray you’re not gonna cry now.”  
“I’m not!” Martin says, then takes a moment to think. “I get the whole cheese tray if I do cry?” He chuckles. “Oh! I can win this, easily, you know.”  
“I know. But I’ll share the tray nonetheless and I will buy you lunch in Bordeaux next Friday if you don’t cry. So please don’t. Be happy.”  
And it is good. Martin smiles a lot after becoming a husband, and Douglas just goes to bed early, waking up early to go for a walk, sometimes on his own, and sometimes with Carolyn and Snoopadoo. He reads a lot, and occasionally watches a movie, but the remaining X-files eps and the complete series of My Family stay unwatched.  
Two months after the twins are born (by far the ugliest babies ever put on this earth with their grey eyes and orange hair), there’s a knock on his door on a rainy Tuesday night.  
It’s Martin, and he starts talking the second Douglas opens the door.  
“Douglas, Mary and I made a deal. She gets a night off for a book club, and I get an evening off for, well, whatever I want. And what I really want is one night a week coming over and cooking dinner with you and having dinner with you and watch the rest of the X-files with you. And then another series, and a million more series, or movies, or whatever. I mean, I love the babies and I love Mary but it is so… it is so not like what we had. And I miss what we had so much that it hurts.”  
“It would be my pleasure,” Douglas says, and yes, there is that smile again, a bit teary-eyed now, but still ear to ear. All aimed at him, and he smiles back, just feeling ridiculously happy about what has been offered.  
“That smile,” Martin says. “I mean, the way you smile at me sometimes… Douglas, if I wasn’t a straight married man, I really would kiss you, if I were gay, which I am not. But I still love how you smile, sometimes. That’s friendship, I suppose?  
“I suppose it is. Come here you git,” Douglas welcomes an armful of giddy ridiculously happy Martin Crieff. He places a light kiss on top of the ginger curls. “Dinner and DVDs once a week sound like a perfect deal. “  
Martin hugs him and then looks up. Smiling that smile.  
“I love you, Douglas, “ he says. “You are the best friend I have ever had in my entire life, and the best friend I’ll ever have and I really don’t mean I don’t love my-“  
“I know, I know,” Douglas says. “And the feeling is entirely mutual.” He sighs and kisses Martin’s forehead. “I love you too. To bits. Lasagne verde and then the X-files? “  
Martin grabs his head, yanks it down and actually plants an awkward kiss on his right eye. “Oh God yes. The black and white Cher ep was next, wasn’t it?”  
“It was. It is.”  
That night, they watch that black& white Cher ep of the X-files, and decide it’s the best episode ever, and as Martin leaves , slightly drunk, he says next best thing and plants a sloppy kiss on Douglass’s’ lips.  
It’s the first and last time ever they lock lips. But it’s also the first of countless Tuesday nights cooking and eating lovely dinners and watching DVDs. And sometimes, not always, depending on what they’re watching, they snuggle up. They don’t talk about it, Martin sometimes just rests his head on Douglas’s chest or the other way round. Now and again they hold hands and sometimes there are kisses on foreheads or ears or balding spots and one time, after a really weird disturbing movie, they actually kiss each other’s belly buttons just to make sure. But most Tuesday nights, they just talk and laugh and smile a lot and hug as they say goodbye.  
And both of them think Tuesday nights are the next best thing, or maybe, just maybe, they are just the best thing ever.


End file.
